Praise the Lard!

"The Bored Player"
Oh bother, these hands uneven,
how many seem the same?
My Sunday duds, my king of clubs,
inert as a pair of sevens.
Give it away and pay me bread.
And forget about bets, as we forget our senses.
Feed us hot wings and libation,
when the liver is in peril,
four steins of Kings Cobra, in an hour,
in a story, for empty endeavors.
      --Amen